


Universe

by Osidiano



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Lack of Communication, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, Post-Series, Songfic, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-15
Updated: 2003-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osidiano/pseuds/Osidiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic to the Savage Gardon song of the same name, sans full lyrics. This was my first attempt at writing in this fandom, and my last attempt at writing Harry/Draco slash, many many years ago. It (unfortunately) ties into a much more complex story idea that never quite found its way to paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this is really old, and I didn't rewrite or edit it before putting it up here. You get it in all its 'teenage!Sid' glory. You're welcome.

I hug you close to me, my lips against the soft skin on the back of your neck. I wanted to say something — anything — to you, just to know that you could hear me. The silence was only cut by our breathing. Mine was heavy, but yours seemed unchanged. _You_ remained unchanged, even with your bright eyes closed as you leaned your head farther forward so that your chin rested just past your collarbone. There was a small smile playing on your lips, but it was not enough. I wanted you to whisper my name into the dark, to bring your hands up from your sides to rest on my head. Keep me here. Beg me to stay. But you didn't move. You seem. . . constant, stable, invariable in my presence. I suppose that it is all right, because in the end, I will make you say my name. I will tempt you with soft touches and you will scream for me to be violent. You always do when we play this game.

I kiss your neck ever so softly, my hands sliding the loosened robes off your shoulders. One article of clothing down, but there are still many more to go. You mumble something, but I do not catch it. I know it was not my name, and that was all I wanted you to say. It was all I needed you to say. I needed to be reassured that you knew it was me. I knew what I was doing, had come to par with it long ago, but still I needed to be reminded that I was who you wanted.

_(Well I'd like to take you as I find you_  
_Imagine our clothes are on the floor_  
_Feel my caress so soft and gentle_  
_So delicate you cry for more)_

It is odd, I think as I move back far enough from you to slide your shirt over your head. What we are doing, I mean. Didn't we hate each other, once? Do we still? It seems that the thousands of questions about our relationship always come to haunt me when I least want to ask them. They would ruin the moment, and the ability to articulate my concern is slightly marred due to the activity we're engaged in. And yet my mind is so clear and focused right now that I can feel and appreciate each tiny imperfection of the skin as my hands travel lightly up your bared chest. I am amazed that I can be this detached inside, even though I whisper such strange and inaudible words into your ear almost lovingly. How on earth did we get here? I do not remember when everything changed, when what was once security betrayed its true nature by throwing me amidst the wolves of chaos.

You push away from me suddenly, almost violently. Your breathing has changed at last, and you are wrapping your arms around yourself as if they are a shield to protect you. What is it that you need to be saved from? You are trying to protect yourself from me. I wonder vaguely what I have done now, but you have left the room before I can ask.

_(Universe inside your heart_  
_You gotta let me know_  
_so you can be free baby_  
_You wanted it so much,_  
_and now that it's over_  
_you don't know what you want)_

I do not remember what I did that caused you to leave, but I cannot say that I am sorry. It has been happening with a growing frequency, and even I grow weary of this part of the game. Once more I am left to my thoughts through this pre-'love' haze. I think back to that long ago beginning. At first, you must have said something to me that caused me to come to you. But what was it? What did you say all those years ago? I do not remember. I know that we thought we had grown up and that we were so much more mature than anyone gave us credit for. We knew everything. But look at us now: you run away when you cannot handle something. Your solution is always just to leave. As for me, I do not understand anything anymore. I am lost and confused, my mind dying a little more each day. What little I can recall of this relationship you've told me, time and time again. You tried to make each memory perfect, as if polishing a mirror in a vain attempt to make yourself beautiful. But the problem was never with the mirror, was it? No, it was with us. 

We never belonged together. We were always too different; different houses, different loyalties, different backgrounds. . . opposites. I have to ask myself if we are doing this simply because we're lonely. Is it just because we're human? I. . . I want us to be more than this, more than two men struggling to make what was once a dying love breathe again. I want to start over, to be made anew. I want to love you, and know that the feeling is returned.

You come back into the room, rubbing at your arms as though you are cold. I lay down on the bed, waiting for you. But you do not join me. Words are spoken, and I know that I will not know them later. That will always be a problem; the fact that nothing you could ever say can hold my attention. I cannot commit you to memory, no matter how hard I try. I have said something harsh, I know I have, for you turn your head sharply away from me. Your black hair is a curtain in front of your narrowed green eyes, and you refuse to look at me. My eloquence, it would seem, has taken a leave of absence. I will not apologize. I have never apologized for hurting you. One pain is as the other in my mind, be it physical or emotional. It is not my fault that you have asked this of me, that you have demanded my cruelty to be inflicted upon you. It is your own doing, and if you would like, you may undo it. Just ask me, beg for me to stop. But I don't think that you could handle that, could you? No, you need this. You need me, like this, in order to feel worthwhile, don't you? It is a strange complex, but I have come to dislike delving into your psychology.

_(Cuddle up close_  
_Lay on my chest now_  
_Listen my heart beat's coming down_  
_If you get tired you close your_  
_eyes now_  
_When you wake up I won't be found)_  


The silence has returned to the room, but this time there is no passion in it. You murmur something and I nod my head in acknowledgment. I think you may have said that you are sorry, due to my reaction. The bed sinks slightly as you lay down next to me, curling up close and touching me too tentatively. You think that by continuing to be submissive I will forgive you. But there you are wrong, and I wrap an arm around your trembling shoulders. I have not forgiven you. There was never anything that needed forgiveness. Yet you are terrified that I will reject you, that I will roll onto my side and not speak with you. You know I will not leave. But you don't know that I can't reject you without first rejecting myself. Unlike others, I hold nothing to or against you. I never will. Never. . . I like absolutes, they make me think of stability, of things that cannot change. They remind me of you so much; of the boy you used to be, the unbending young man you once were.

You whisper my name at last and I smile. Yes, that is who I am. It is good to see that you still know me. You sit up, licking your lips nervously as you take in my prone figure. You want. . . I know what you want. But my mood has been wrecked, and I am now loathe to give in. After all, I am the only dominant person in this relationship. My robes and shirt have long since been removed, and so you run your too cold hands down my stomach to rest on the tie of my pants, eyes wide as you look into mine. I am curious now. This is something that you have not done before. This is a break in the monotonous routine, and you are not an assertive person. You are fumbling with the tie, and my breathing is rasped and ragged in anticipation. I want to know what you are doing. Are you trying to provoke me, or is there another motive?

You say something, something about me and what you think I want. The understanding of this situation is still lost on me, but I am not one to say no to giving. And I am excited by this, by your seemingly sudden change of heart. The tie is done, and your hands are shaking, but you do not let your eyes stray from mine.

You stop, and I can hear myself hiss. You say something as you back away ever so slightly. My mind is coming to conclusions at a fervent pace, and I do not like what it has decided on. You are rejecting me. That is the only plausible answer. It is the only answer that I will not accept. We both know that if you reject me, I will have no qualms leaving you. And you need me. I am only catching half of what you are babbling, and it neither fuels nor quiets my silent recriminations that I know you are unaware of. You fall silent, and I hear myself snarl an accusation, but you do not respond. Why is it that you deny me? After all we have been through? Now it is my turn to leave you alone in the room for an unalotted amount of time, my turn to let you sink deep into your thoughts until the air is electric with your own doubt.

_(You will only end up lost in loneliness_  
_And wake up with the words already_  
_on your lips_  
_So I'll let you go, baby_  
_I'll let you go)_

I am only standing outside the closed door, my sweaty forehead resting against the cool wood. This is what you do, this is where you wait. You are not quiet like I am, though. Your sobs carry through the walls out to the hall, and I can tell that you are near hysterics. I will not apologize like you do when I come back in. You do not expect me to. I grit my teeth as you continue to wail, but I will wait a little longer. It is no wonder to me why I must always be there, why I cannot leave you alone. Only I can keep your demons at bay, a fact that I am quite proud of. The metal doorknob is now slick from the clammy hand that rests on it. I should wait longer, but not even I am heartless enough to stand out here and listen to you grieve. You have no faith in me. You do not think that I will come back. Without you, I have nothing.

I love you.

I watch your face light up as I open the door, and you stumble to your feet. You have embraced me before I am sure what is happening, but my name and 'I love you's keep falling from your bruised lips incessantly.

You will not let go of me, so I pick you up and gently set you down on the bed. I hear you whimper when I break contact. As I lay down next to you, you shower my brow with kisses and wrap your arms around me once more. I know that you are trying not to notice how I don't look at your face, and I know that even you have to realize how impassive this moment is. But you fall asleep none the less, and I watch the sun rise from the corners of the earth on my own through the window. Moments like this are considered normal for our relationship, and that bothers me.

After all this time. . . shouldn't we be in love by now?


End file.
